


Dreaming of What Could have Been

by FrostOverlord



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Dreams, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostOverlord/pseuds/FrostOverlord
Summary: A bit of a late drabble for Jackrabbit week of 2019.Was it wrong to enjoy these little dreams of what he wished he could have? Was it wrong to hold onto the tiny hope, buried deep in his soul, that maybe someday he might have the chance to to make the dream into reality? To hold and be held, to love and be loved, by the boy that had stolen his heart and breath in the same moment?Probably.





	1. Chapter 1

He could tell it was a dream from the smile on Jack’s face as they danced. Warm and bright and kind, like the morning sunlight on freshly fallen snow. He could tell from the way he didn’t push away when Aster pulled him closer, holding him tight as they swayed and twirled to the music. Aster wasn’t much of a dancer- two left feet as the humans put it- but that didn’t matter to Jack. They moved in perfect synchrony. Two halves of a whole, two stars in perfect orbit around each other, two hearts beating as one.  
  
It was a perfect moment; from the way the light cast just the right shadows to accentuate Jack’s features, to the music playing faintly in the background. This, too, told Aster that he was dreaming. Dreaming of the impossible, of things he couldn’t have, of something that could have been had he only been more understanding. Less stubborn. More patient. Less afraid.  
  
He didn’t deserve what he held in his arms, but he smiled and nuzzled Jack’s cheek regardless, resting his head on the other spirit’s shoulder. Was it so wrong to enjoy these little moments? Was it wrong to enjoy these little dreams of what he wished he could have? Was it wrong to hold onto the tiny hope, buried deep in his soul, that maybe someday he might have the chance to to make the dream into reality? To hold and be held, to love and be loved, by the boy that had stolen his heart and breath in the same moment?  
  
Probably.  
  
Jack’s hand rested against the back of his head, rubbing gentle circles into his fur, and Aster sighed in contentment. Perhaps it was selfish of him to take so much joy in these little dreams of his, but he didn’t care. They were his, and in the dream so was Jack.  
  
Of course, by the same token, he was Jack’s, dream or no.  
  
A dull throbbing pain in his side warned him when the dream began to subside. Jack pulled away, pressing a kiss to Aster’s forehead as the world around him began to dim. He fought, of course. He always did. He wanted more time before cruel reality crashed back down upon him. He reached out to the apparition of the man he’d fallen for, and got a sad smile and a wave in return.  
  
And then there was darkness.  
  
\-------------------  
  
A steady beeping noise woke him up. That, and the dull pain throbbing throughout his left flank. He could tell without even opening his eyes that he wasn’t in his own home; the bed was rough, the sheets thin, the air too crisp. Aster refused to move, at first, instead dedicating his first waking moments to memorizing the dream he had been pulled from.  
  
He didn’t want to wake up, but he couldn’t sleep forever. He’d tried that, long ago. Drowning his grief and loneliness in dreams. In the end, though, it had only made his heart ache even more.  
  
Besides, now he had others that relied on him. This, more than anything, inspired him to finally open his eyes.  
  
North’s infirmary was exactly how he remembered it. All shades of white and green, pristine and clinical. It was a welcome sight, admittedly. It took him a moment to recall why he was here, but after the initial block the memories came easily. A fight with an uppity wizard targeting children, a blast of heat and blades. He hadn’t been the target of that one, but it had hit him. Why was that?  
  
The scent of pine and laughter reached his nose, and Aster remembered. It had been directed at Jack. He’d pushed him out of the way. Jack had always been able to take care of himself, and as a human he could’ve shrugged off the pain far more easily than Aster. Logically speaking, he should’ve let Jack deal with the attack himself.  
  
Logically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to do that.  
  
“You’re awake.”  
  
Aster twitched in surprise, hissing when the pain in his side spiked from the sudden movement. Aster reached out to his right, blindly feeling for the button to bring the bed into a sitting position. When the bed started moving, though, it wasn’t because of him. Aster’s hand bumped against another, and he pulled away.  
  
He knew who it was without looking. The scent alone was enough, and the voice had confirmed it. He just didn’t particularly want to deal with Jack, right now. Not so soon after waking up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in a position that gave him a choice in the matter.  
  
“‘Ta, Jack.”  
  
“...yeah.”  
  
Once the seat had been brought to a proper incline, Jack stepped away. Silent, pensive. Stillness didn’t suit him, nor did the carefully neutral expression on his face. “Wizard’s dead. Kids are fine.”  
  
… ah, status report. Aster nodded. “Good. Everyone got home safe?”  
  
Jack nodded. “If we’re lucky, they’ll think it was all a dream and _won’t_ be traumatized for life.”  
  
A single, quiet huff of laughter escaped Aster’s lips, then a groan as the pain in his side spiked again. Jack watched him, face devoid of emotion. It was unnerving, really. Jack had always worn his heart on his sleeve, as the humans said, but now…  
  
Well, Aster didn’t know what to make of it.  
  
Neither of them said anything for a while. Aster didn’t know what to say. Not without sticking his foot in his mouth like he always did. His ears twitched every which way as he considered all the different ways a conversation could go, each little mental simulation ending just as badly as the last.  
  
“Could you stop doing that? It’s distracting.”  
  
Aster’s ears fell back, and his eyes locked onto Jack. “Stop doing what?”  
  
Jack pointed at his head, offering no further explanation. “.... my head?” Did Jack learn to read minds when he wasn’t looking?  
  
“Your ears. The dance party isn’t appreciated when I’m trying to figure out how to tell you how upset I am.”  
  
“I… what? What did I-”  
  
Jack groaned, annoyance breaking the careful expression he’d crafted. “You’re a fucking idiot, Bunny.”  
  
Well, that was just rude. Aster frowned, objection already on his lips, but something about Jack’s expression stopped him. There was annoyance there, true, but there was something else. Something he’d never seen before.  
  
Jack sighed, nervously running a hand through his hair. “Just... Why? Why did you do it?”  
  
Why did he… oh. Aster’s ears fell back again, and he looked away. He thanked the creator that he had fur to hide the blush blooming over his face. “I… I don’t rightly know.”  
  
In his defense, it was the truth. Partly, at least. Logically speaking, he had no idea why he’d jumped in front of Jack. It was a stupid move by all accounts. The pain of the blow had rendered Aster unconscious within minutes. He’d only barely managed to get himself away from the battlefield.

Emotions were never logical.  
  
“It was pointless, I was already unraveling the spell. It wouldn’t have hit anyone if you hadn’t pushed me.”  
  
Aster look at Jack in surprise at that. Since when did he know how to-  
  
“North’s taught me a few tricks.” Jack muttered dismissively, answering Aster’s question before he could even ask it.  
  
Aster looked away again, deflating. Of course. “I’ve made a right ass of myself, I suppose.”  
  
Jack didn’t answer, which was alright by Aster. Confirmation of his foolishness wasn’t exactly something he was looking for.  
  
Silence ruled over the room for several minutes after that, interrupted only by the steady beep of the heart monitor nearby. Aster deciding that it would be best if he just… didn’t say anything, and from the expression on Jack’s face he had decided the same. Probably for the best; The silence gave Aster time to think. Or, rather, to not think. He let his mind wander aimlessly, avoiding any specific subjects as best he could. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any sort of internal revelations, to be frank. Best he avoid them entirely.  
  
After a while, Jack finally moved from where he’d been leaning against the wall, sighing as he twirled his staff and walked away. “Well, I’ll see you later cottontail.”  
  
Aster nodded, watching Jack as he walked away. Something about the man’s figure struck him as off. Like words had been left unsaid. Like he’d expected something other than what he’d gotten. It wasn’t until the door clicked closed behind him that Aster noticed it. A glinting in the corner of his eye that drew them to the little table beside his bed.  
  
There, glinting innocently in the light, was the smallest sprinkle of dreamsand.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack wasn’t angry. He _wished_ it was anger that had him shoving down his magic so hard that he could feel his heartbeat in his temples; that it was anger that made his blood feel like it was boiling and freezing all at once. Anger he could deal with. No, this was _frustration_. He had never been so _frustrated_ in his life. Frustrated at himself. At the idiot who’d thrown himself in front of an attack he could’ve easily dismissed on his own. At his own _stupid_ conscience.  
  
An elf passed by, cheerfully waving at Jack. He froze it without a second thought, the poor thing clattering to the floor with confusion plastered on its face.  
  
Jack clamped back down on his magic, already feeling icicles forming over his clothes and in his hair from the momentary lapse in control. No, losing it in the pole was not a solution to the situation, even if freezing things felt like _far_ too good of an idea right now. Jack pulled up the hood on his sweater, leaving behind a frozen trail as icicles fell away from the frost-bound cloth. His grip on Twinetender tightened, and he shoved his free hand into his hoodie pocket.  
  
There, his fingers brushed against burlap, bringing the source of his frustration center-stage once again. Jack growled, pulling the bag out of his pocket and into full view, trailing little glowing granules of gold behind it. Stupid damn rabbit. Stupid damn dreamsand.  
  
Stupid damned _him_.  
  
Jack gripped the bag even tighter as he passed near a window, Wind blasting it open even as he stepped forward, arm raised and body poised to rid him of the object forever.  
  
Then, just as quickly as the mood had struck him, he deflated. His arm dropped, and he slumped against the window frame, slowly dropping to the ground in defeat. What was he doing? Why did this bother him so much?  
  
Jack turned and leaned his head back against the wooden wall, shutting his eyes against the questions. He didn’t know.  
  
He sat there for a while, dozing thoughtlessly and letting his power leak out into the arctic sky through the open window. Then a shadow passed over him, and he heard the click of the window latch.  
  
He opened his eyes, looking up at the concerned face of North’s chief security officer.  
  
“Hey, Phil.”  
  
The yeti didn’t reply immediately, instead taking the time to close the shutters on the window. Only after that did he move to sit down next to Jack.  
  
Grunt. Snarl. Jack left the window open.  
  
Jack laughed weakly, only now noticing the hailstones sitting on the ground around him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I... was distracted.” The usual lighthearted deflection evaded him. He hadn’t intended to start a storm, but at least all the energy he’d been bottling up had gone outside, instead of wrecking the workshop.  
  
Phil didn’t say anything in response. He sat next to Jack in silence, watching with patient concern. He’d never really thought patience would be Phil’s strong suit, but thinking back in made sense.  
  
They sat in silence for a time. Phil watching Jack, Jack staring at the little bag in his hand.  
  
“I just-” the words came unbidden, halting and unsure. “I just wanted to know why he got himself hurt for no reason, you know?”  
  
Phil nodded, motioning for Jack to continue even as he responded in the rough sounds of yettish. What happened?  
  
Jack sighed, holding the bag of dreamsand up in the light. “I was waiting for him to wake up and… He looked like he was having bad dreams. I guess… I guess I sympathized a bit." Jack frowned, turning the bag in his hand as he spoke. "I can’t get sleep easily, so Sandy gave me this bag to use when I’m really, really tired.”  
  
A few grains fall from the bag’s open end, spiraling to the ground with supernatural grace. He remembered the quiet whimpers, the forlorn expression on Bunny’s face. But more than that he remembered the sadness falling away from his fellow guardian in waves, the overwhelming _antithesis_ of joy that finally broke Jack’s resolve and saw him spilling dreamsand over the rabbit’s head.  
  
He remembered the figures that wove themselves into being above Bunny’s head, dancing and smiling and _happy_. The quiet, warm glow of unbridled joy that filled the room even as Jack registered what exactly he was seeing.  
  
“I think… I think I saw something I probably shouldn’t have. In the sand.”  
  
There, sculpted in golden grains, stood Bunny, smiling and happy and free of all burdens. In his arms, held like the most precious of treasures…  
  
Jack groaned, head falling back and gently impacting wood. “I just… what am I supposed to- how am I supposed to-”  
  
Phil’s hand engulfed Jack’s shoulder, drawing Jack’s attention to him. The Yeti had a thoughtful expression as he spoke. The usually grating sounds of yettish a low, careful rumble. In his experience, bottling up emotions just results in a bottle full of rot and an aching heart.  
  
Jack scowled at that, turning away. “So? What are you saying here?” What did he want Jack to do? He wasn’t even sure how he felt about the fact that his- Hell, were he and Bunny even     friends? All they ever did was snark at each other and argue about stupid things. And race each other on free days. And Bunny had never been the one to tell him to shut up when he was on one of his rants, had he? Or kicked him out of his Warren even when Jack was only there to mess with him.  
  
Grunt. Snarl. Go talk to the Rabbit.  
  
… and Jack had been far more of an ass to Bunny over the years than he’d ever been to him, hadn’t he? What was it he’d been so mad about this whole time?  
  
Jack wracked his brain for the answer, but he just… couldn’t remember.  
  
Eventually, Phil stood up. He had work to do that didn’t involve babysitting a moping Guardian.  
  
For the first time that night, Jack laughed. “Okay, yeah.” Jack had things to do as well, didn’t he? He looked down at the bag of dreamsand still sitting in his hand. So maybe he wasn’t sure how he felt about Bunny still… that didn’t mean he had to keep being a dick, did it? Jack jumped to his feet, pocketing the bag and grabbing up Twinetender from where it had fallen to the floor in a single smooth motion.  
  
He had things to do, and the first thing on that list was clearing the air. With renewed cheer, Jack made his way back to the Infirmary. Back to his… friend.  
  
Along the way, of course, he freed a poor, confused elf from it’s frozen prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really planning on this to go more than a chapter or two, but when inspiration hits after nearly two years of absolutely nothing you don't ignore it, now do you?
> 
> I really hope that you guys enjoy whatever this turns into, I'm quite enjoying writing it, myself. I've missed this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look another chapter wow

Not thinking wasn’t working.   
  


Aster sighed, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling, as though it might have answers for him. He could still hear hail clicking against the nearby window, and he couldn’t help but wonder again if it was because of Jack. He knew that sometimes strong emotions could affect the powers of certain spirits, but who was to say that it wasn’t a natural storm? From his position in the infirmary, Aster couldn’t reach out with his magic to check; too many wards in the way.   
  


If it  _ was _ Jack that caused the storm, was it because of the conversation? Or... There was dreamsand spilled on the table beside Aster’s bed, had he been there when it was used? Had he seen himself in the dream? He turned the questions over in his head for what felt like the hundredth time since the storm began, but the answer still evaded him.    
  


Pushing the thoughts away again, he reached carefully to the table beside him, where a glass of water had been placed just within reach. He winced, pain shooting up his side, and not for the first time wished that he could take painkillers. Unfortunately he tended to have bad reactions to the stuff, even before…

 

Well. _Before._

 

Aster brought the water to his lips a bit too quickly, nearly dropping the glass from the hundreds of needles of pain suddenly stabbing into his side, but managed to keep from doing anything worse than spilling a bit of it. Thirst sated, he put the glass back, far more mindful of his injury this time.   
  


What a fool he was. Like it would be so easy to make up for hundreds of years of willful ignorance, and decades more of active hostility. In fact, his actions today (yesterday?) probably only made things worse- at best he’d likely given Jack the impression that he thought him unable to defend himself.   
  


Aster groaned, staring back up at the ceiling. No matter what he did, his mind kept wandering back to Jack. He needed a distraction. Something, anything, to get his mind off of-   
  


There was a knock at the door; a slow, almost demure series of wooden taps. Then, not waiting for an answer, the door opened.   
  


“Bunny? You still awake?”   
  


Jack. He’d come back. Jack’s voice was softer now, careful in a different way from before. Gentle in a way that made Aster’s hearts ache. “Aye, Jack. ‘M still here.”   
  


There was no response, aside from the door clicking quietly closed.   
  


Aster closed his eyes as Jack approached, doing his best to ignore how his hearts raced each other in his chest. He waited for Jack to start talking, to tell him why he was there… but he never did.   
  


It was Aster who finally spoke first.   
  


“So…  there something you needed, Frostbite?”   
  


He heard something clatter to the ground, and opened his eyes to see a rather ragged-looking Jack Frost picking up his staff off the ground. It was an odd sight- not that Aster was going to complain about the view- as Jack had never once to his knowledge dropped his staff.   
  


“You ‘right there, Jackie?”   
  


Jack sighed, still half-bent towards the ground. “I’m… no. Not really. Gimme a moment?”   
  


Aster nodded, though he couldn’t help feeling a bit uneasy. This was something new; something had changed between himself and Jack, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Or why, for that matter. He wasn't sure what worried him more, the fact that something changed, or the fact that he didn't know why. As he turned the thoughts over in his head, Jack reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag.   
  


A few golden grains spiraled to the ground.   
  


“... Dreamsand.” So then…   
  


“Yeah.”   
  


Jack placed the bag on the side table next to him, then stepped away to grab one of the rolling stools situated against the wall.   
  


Aster had expected him to perch, like he did sometimes with his staff, but he sat down just like any other human would. Aster had never associated the word “heavy” with Jack, but the way his shoulders were set; the way he rested his arms on his legs, the weight of his body resting atop them; brought the word unbidden to his mind.   
  


It worried him.   
  


“Jack-”   
  


“You were having a nightmare, I think.”   
  


What? Aster stopped, confusion plastered to his face. Jack smiled sadly and continued.   
  


“After we got you settled here. It looked like you were having a nightmare and… well, even you don’t deserve to suffer in your sleep.”   
  


Jack stopped speaking for a moment, a look of consternation crossing his face. “Sorry, that… that didn’t come out how it was supposed to.”   
  


Aster frowned, filing away Jack’s comment for later and focusing on what came before. He didn’t remember a nightmare. All he remembered from his sleep was his dream of Jack. Of Dancing. Of that joyous smile and mutual laughter.   
  


“Sandy gave me the dreamsand.”   
  


Jack’s voice brought Aster back to the present. He was looking away. Towards the bag of dreamsand, Aster realized.   
  


“I… It was a gift. You know, for when I had trouble sleeping.” There was more there that wasn't being said. Sandy didn’t just  _ give out _ dreamsand. It was powerful stuff, and cases of addiction had cropped up before when other spirits got their hands on it out of turn. Even Aster had a hard time getting any from Sandy. “I… well, you’ve probably already figured this out, but I dusted you with some of it. To get rid of the nightmare.”   
  


Aster’s ears fell back, one of his hearts skipping a beat. Jack had… well, he’d likely seen the dream, but it was because he had gotten rid of a nightmare.    
  


“... Dancing, huh?”   
  


Aster didn’t answer immediately, looking away from Jack and composing himself. Jack, for his credit, remained quiet. Patient. Aster didn’t know he could be like that. Yet another thing to love about him.   
  


“... ‘m not much of a dancer myself. Two left feet, as you humans say.”   
  


He heard Jack chuckle roughly. Then Aster felt a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”   
  


Aster’s ears twitched, and he looked at Jack again. He couldn’t have heard that right. “I’m sorry?”   
  


Jack nodded. “I’ve… I realized that I haven’t really been very fair to you. Lately.”   
  


That- what a load of- Aster frowned. “You’ve been more than fair. I hardly deserve better.”   
  


“That’s not true, though!” Jack stood up, the chair screeching back from him, and started to pace. “I mean, yeah you’re a huge grump all the fucking time and… okay so the stuff you said back on the ‘Nightmare before Easter’ really, really hurt, but you’ve at least tried to be civil and here I am treating you like- like- I don’t know, like I’m expecting you to prove something?

  
Aster stayed silent.  
  


“I just…” suddenly Jack whirled around, gesturing at Aster with his staff. “I’ve been an ass towards you, and you…” Then just as quickly as Jack had wound himself up, he deflated, pulling the chair back into place and sitting down again. “I don’t even remember why was so mad at you in the first place.”   
  


Well, that was easy enough. “The Blizzard,” Aster said. Jack looked up at him, question in his eyes. “Back in 68. You were doing your Job. I jobbed you for it. Was overall an absolute bastard, didn’t even give you the chance to explain.” It wasn't the only thing Jack had to be upset about, but it was what started it all. Ground Zero. The catalyst.    
  


Aster watched the recognition light up in Jack’s eyes. “Huh. I guess that was how that happened, wasn’t it?” Good. Now that he remembered he could stop apologizing and place the blame back where it-    
  


“Guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought, then.”   
  


Aster’s jaw had never dropped before. He’d heard the expression, knew what it meant, but he’d never experienced it first hand until now. “Not as bad as- Jack I left you a bloody mess on the ground! And that's _ignoring_ the decade or so after that!” He'd spent the next several years intentionally bringing spring early to places he knew Jack frequented, until Emily Jane finally told him off for it. He hadn't been entirely in his right mind back then, but it still wasn't an excuse. It had been childish, and he regretted every moment of it.  
  


Jack squinted, looking off to the side as though trying to remember. “... No, still don’t recall. Must not have been as bad as you thought, I guess?” He shrugged-  _ shrugged _ . Dismissing one of Aster’s worst mistakes of the last millennium as though it were nothing! Aster had no idea what it was he was feeling at this point, but whatever it was must have shown on his face. Jack shook his head, a mischievous smirk stealing over his face. “Well, whatever. I came back because… I want to start over. I forgive you for everything, you forgive me for everything. Blank slate. Once you’ve woken up I mean.”   
  


Aster didn’t get a chance to answer, because as Jack spoke grains of gold danced into his field of view. “Ja- Jack wai- I-”   
  


Jack spun away from him, laughing. “Think about it, okay cottontail? See you once you’ve healed up!”   
  


And then, darkness.

 

* * *

He and Jack were laying in the grass beneath a willow tree, his head pillowed against Jack's chest, listening to that single heartbeat. Jack's fingers rubbed tiny circles into his back.  


He was safe here, in Jack's arms.


	4. Chapter 4

It would be months before Aster spoke to Jack again. By the time he’d recovered enough to go looking the hardest winter in recorded history had set in throughout the Northern hemisphere, and Jack was right there at the head, keeping things as manageable as possible for humanity. The few trips Aster took to the surface he saw only glimpses of the winter spirit. A small, selfish part of him worried that Jack was actively avoiding him.  
  
But then, Jack saw him too.  
  
It was only for a moment, between playing with children and being dragged away to deal with a rowdy spirit, but the way Jack smiled at him made Aster dismiss the idea that he was being avoided in its entirety.  
  
And then, all too soon, it was time for him to settle in for his own work. After all, he had a holiday to prepare for.  
  
The work moved quickly. Quicker than Aster had expected, at least. He was perhaps using a bit too much blue paint overall, and even with the lure of seeing Jack in his dreams he didn’t sleep as often as he should. Still. Jack’s forgiveness, and the smile he’d shot his way, lifted Aster’s spirits through what usually felt like busywork. He loved to paint, mind, but it took on a different quality when it was for business, rather than pleasure.   
  
For once, he didn’t notice that difference.  
  
As things were, it felt almost like Easter Sunday snuck up on him. The day arrived, and it still felt like he’d only been working for a week. Yet he knew everything was ready, All that remained was the run.  
  
And so, run he did. He ran, power thrumming through his veins, a steady stream of energy as more and more awoke with excitement in their eyes and hope in their hearts. He never felt so alive as he did when he ran, soaring through his tunnels and between continents. Starting at the date line, dancing between countries, hiding eggs for those that believed, and fulfilling other traditions for those that didn’t.  
  
In Germany he searched for nests to leave eggs in, and colored thousands more on the fly as he dashed through soon-to-be egg-laden streets and parks. Then from there to greece, where he left behind the energy of spring in the shards of broken pottery left in the streets. Further still, a visit to the White Oxen in Florence, to bless them with enough strength to complete their march to the Cathedral.  
  
He blessed random eggs in Bulgaria so they wouldn’t be broken, convinced the winds to blow just right in Bermuda. And when finally he made his march through the US he found still more energy to spend. Eggs and chocolates hidden in parks and around houses, a carpet of color on the White House lawn. Still other little traditions fulfilled as he blew through a mosaic of cultures, flashes of knowledge jumping to mind so that each and every child could experience Easter in whatever way they could.  
  
And for once, Aster felt it along with them. More than just the steady stream of newfound and rekindled belief, more than the knowledge of what it was he did. For once, it felt like It was a new day for him too. A new start.   
  
Aster was reasonably certain he’d never run so fast in his life, even more certain when he reached the American Samoa with hours to spare before Daylight would ever touch the ground. And then, he turned around, Energy still humming through him. Back through his tunnels he went, going anywhere that hadn’t yet completed it’s celebration to watch, to see his handiwork.  
  
And, perhaps, to tease the children a bit. A glimpse of an ear here. A shadow of an overly large rabbit there. Lights that were once just sparks igniting into infernos of belief from even the slightest sighting.  
  
He found himself in Pennsylvania when finally the energy that made his run possible began to fade away. He sat down, watching the last egg hunt in the familiar area wind down. Believers that had years ago saved their lives now raising children of their own.  
  
It was here, at the edge of a lake he’d all but forgotten about, that he finally spoke to Jack again.  
  
“Bunny?”  
  
Aster’s eyes flickered open, his fur on end and fatigue forgotten as he jumped up from where he’d been resting. He’d been careless. Let someone sneak up on him. Dangerous, even for him.  
  
Jack stood there, confusion and amusement painted onto his features.  
  
Aster didn’t relax, not immediately. He knew better than anyone that shapeshifters existed. He didn’t know who might try and target him of all people but-  
  
A snowflake danced into his vision, landing on his nose before dissolving into magic. Almost immediately Aster coughed out a laugh. He let the laugh carry him down, falling to his side with his mistrust forgotten. That was 100% Jack’s magic. He’d never mistake it for anyone else’s.

“Jack.”  
  
Aster heard Jack walking over to him, the noise probably intentional, and smiled when Jack leaned into his vision. “You okay there cottontail?”  
  
“Ah. You know. Just havin’ a lie down. Been a busy day.”  
  
Jack smiled. “I’ll bet. What brings you to this neck of the woods? Aren’t you usually home right about now?”  
  
Now that; that was the question. Not that he didn’t know the answer, just…  
  
Aster sighed, ears flicking backwards in embarrassment as he looked away. “A couple decades ago that might’ve been true.”  
  
He felt more than heard Jack sitting down next to him. “What changed?”  
  
“You saved our lives.” It was surprisingly easy to say, half-tired as he was. All of the guardians had changed their ways after meeting Jack, but no one had ever said a word about why. Why they met up monthly now. Why Tooth started going to collect teeth herself again; why North had been checking in on children personally, rather than having the yeti do it all; why he’d started doubling back to watch the egg hunts.  
  
They’d forgotten what it was like, enjoying the fruits of their labor. Watching others enjoy the things they spent so much time and effort on. They’d grown isolated, but Jack had pulled them back out of their shells.  
  
He’d pulled Aster out of his shell.  
  
Aster rolled over on his side so that he could more easily look at Jack. When he spoke, it was through a barely-restrained yawn. ”And what are you doing out here, snowflake?”  
  
There was an expression on Jack’s face that Aster couldn’t quite make sense of, something like confusion and awe, maybe annoyance all mixed together. Then he frowned, gesturing at the lake. “I kinda live here, Cottontail. Kinda. Sometimes.”  
  
Lived here? Aster frowned, looking behind Jack. He recognized the lake, hard not too, really. It was where Jack officially joined the Guardians. Where they’d put Pitch back in his hole after his last attempt to get rid of them. Other than that, though, there was nothing special that he could see. Just a lake in the middle of the woods.  
  
“There’s no house, if that’s what you’re looking for.”  
  
Aster shook his head. “No. No, it’s just… You live here?” Aster couldn’t help the confusion in his voice. He’d known Jack was a nomad, so that he didn’t have a proper home didn’t surprise him, necessarily, but…   
  
Jack pushed off the ground, the wind catching him and turning him upright, and kicked his staff up into the air. It hung there for a bit, suspended in the air, before Jack grabbed it with an entirely unnecessary flourish. “I mean, I keep my stuff here. Some of it. I’ve got a few hidey-holes around where I keep things.” Jack frowned, thoughtful. “So I don’t live here, really, but... This is the only one with an actual bed. It’s my favorite spot, and sometimes it’s nice to sleep in an actual bed, you know?”  
  
Aster nodded. “Yeah. End up sleeping in the grass far too often myself, least during Easter prep. Bed is definitely more comfortable.” Jack laughed, bright and warm, and leaned back against a nearby tree. Thin beams of afternoon sunlight drifted between the leaves, casting a mottled carpet of color over Jack’s form.  
  
He was beautiful.   
  
Still. Aster sat up, struggling slightly until he managed to get his arms back under himself. For all that he was enjoying himself here, he felt like he was forgetting something. Something important. “Speaking of the grass in my Warren.” Aster stretched his arms, and moved to stand up. “Probably about time I head home.”  
  
Jack pouted, crossing his arms in mock frustration. “Come on, I thought we were having a good time!”  
  
Aster huffed, closest thing he could get to a laugh as tired as he was. “Sorry, snowflake. Much as I’d love to stay and chat I-” A yawn interrupted Aster, pulling more laughter from Jack.  
  
“Tired already? It’s not that late cottontail. It’s, what…” Jack made a few marks in the dirt with his staff, and looked between the sun and his staff’s shadow a few times. “I’d say two? Three in the afternoon? Still plenty of time left in the day!”  
  
Aster shook his head, bemused. He stepped closer to Jack, already pulling at the magic needed to open up a tunnel. “No I- I really think I should be going. Believe me, I’d love to stay but-”   
  
Suddenly his head was spinning, his vision darkening around the edges. For a brief moment he felt like he was in freefall, then Jack’s arms were around him, holding him up.  
  
Jack was talking. He was talking but- Aster shook his head, best he could, but his entire body felt like lead. He’d been tired already, but suddenly it was like all of the exhaustion of the past day had-  
  
Of course, that’s what he’d forgotten. It’d been 24 hours since he’d started his run. He tried to move a little, to open his tunnels; failing that he slurred out a few words. He had to tell Jack that he’d be okay. He should’ve never forgotten in the first place, but he’d be okay. He just needed rest.  
  
Apparently he’d managed to say at least some of what he wanted, because Jack’s panicked voice calmed slightly. He was pulled closer, and soon he found himself draped over Jack’s back, carried like he was a child.  
  
Jack’s voice drew Aster’s waning attention, and through the fog of exhaustion he managed to pick out what Jack was saying to him.  
  
“What’s happening?”  
   
Oh, good. An easy question. Aster rubbed his cheek against Jack’s shoulder, making himself comfortable. He could already feel his consciousness fading even as he slurred out the explanation.  
  
“Easter is- ‘s over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a large number of Easter traditions besides eggs, and since he's crossing the WHOLE WORLD, I figure Aster probably deals with those too. Admittedly, I'm not super-well versed in international Easter traditions, the the few mentioned here are admittedly those that could be easily found through a quick google search. Still, it was fun to see what other things Aster might be doing with his time and energy on the big day!


	5. Chapter 5

_They wouldn’t stop._

_Prince save them, they were still coming._

_The Fearlings flooded from the breach, a sickening black mass flowing like blood from a wound. The vanguard fell almost instantly, their moontouched weapons incapable of eating through the nightmarish creatures fast enough. His plan- creator help him his plan was failing. Months of careful preparation, constant struggles and countless sacrifices only for him to lead his people to ruin._

_He couldn’t help the tears, despair and sorrow filling his heart as he watched his fellow pooka crying out as the darkness consumed them. This…_

_This was his fault._

_It was all his fault._

_The sound of bells cut through the noise, pulling his attention to the outskirts of the fight just in time to witness the miracle._

_A flash of moonlight nearly as bright as the sun itself lighting up the skies. The Fearlings recoiling, and eventually falling back._

_The breach was sealed._

_They’d been contained._

_Commander E. Aster Bunnymund’s relief was immeasurable._

_\------------------------------_

_He woke feeling heavy. His mind dragging through fog and his limbs like lead. Where was he? What was he doing?_

_Basil. He’d been with Basil. He shot to his feet, and his attention was drawn to the weight around his neck. A loop of rope attached to the shell of the First Light. The weight on his spirit told him the Light was inside, but why? Why was it here? What-_

_The lights flickered on._

_“You’re awake.”_

_Basil’s voice sounded over the intercom. Calm. Cold. There was a door, and he caught a glimpse of the other pooka through the rounded glass window. He recognized this space now, he was in a seed ship._

_“Basil, what’s going on?”_

_There was a low grumble from the intercom, then the answer came._

_“You’re infuriating, you know?”_

_What?_

_Basil continued, “Even if we begged you, there’s no chance that you would leave of your own free will. Even if it meant losing the Light, you’d stay and fight to your last breath to protect as many people as possible. I hate it. So. So much.”_

_He shook his head, as though to shake off the last of his grogginess. “Basil what are you talking about? Why am I in here? Why do I-”_

_His voice caught in his throat as his mind finally processed what was happening. He had the Light. He was in a seed ship. No- No no no no._

_“It’s been decided that you need to leave. To take the Light and hide somewhere far away from here.”_

_“No!”_

_“Obviously you would have refused if we’d asked directly, so… goodbye.”_

_He pounded on the door, calling out for his friend. Silence answered him. He was alone._

_Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He’d never see them again. His family, what little he cared for them. His friends. People were counting on him, he couldn’t- he couldn’t abandon them._

_But he wasn’t, was he?_ They _were abandoning_ him _. He slid back against the door, finally giving up. But just as the sorrow was flooding his heart, Basil's voice stumbled through the intercom._

_"I- I know I don't deserve to; I didn't even deserve you telling me in the first place, but… permission to use your name, Aster?"_

_He slumped back against the door, closing his eyes. Disbelief, Anger, Betrayal all swarmed about in his heart… but something made him answer._

_"Sure."_

_There was a pause, and then: "I- I’m sorry for deceiving you. I- I know it's selfish of me, but I had to be sure you would be safe."_

_What? He sat up, looking towards the small window just above his head._

_"Edelweiss... I know that you only see me as a friend, but you mean the world to me. So even if it means that I’ll never get to see you again, it will be worth it so long as you are able to carry on living."_

_His breath caught._

_"Basil," he said, "you aren't just a friend. You are my_ best _friend. More a brother to me than any of my actual family ever was. I don't want to lose you."_

_He heard something from the other side, but the noise of the engines engaging drowned it out._

_"Basil, promise me something."_

_"... Chrysanthus."_

_"... Chrysanthus, promise me something."_

_"I- Anything."_

_"Survive. When this war is over, find me again."_

_"... I promise."_

_The promise was surely empty, but his heart felt lighter all the same._

_\---------------------_

_It was cold. The pads of his feet gone raw from running on bare ice and snow._

_It was dark. The sun blotted out by storm clouds and sleet._

_For the first time in the longest time, Aster felt afraid. Not for himself, but for the people trapped in the storm. The mortals without his abilities. The children, creator above, the children. Trapped inside churches, schoolhouses, homes with no ready fire for warmth. Gathered together for a day of Hope and new beginnings only for that hope to die before their eyes, murdered by a storm that should never have been._

_He tasted the magic on the wind. Anger bubbled fresh within him. He_ would _find the one responsible._

_The wind howled around him, an agonized wailing like a mother mourning her child. Ice raked at his face as he ran, slipping past fur and cutting into skin. He couldn’t stop, though. Wouldn’t stop. Easter was humming through his veins, power flowing and heart pounding._

_He sniffed the air again, the magic filling it with violent whorls but… he could feel it. The gentle tug towards the source, the Eye._

_He’d found it._

_He cut a sharp turn, making a beeline for the storm’s eye and running headlong into the wind. Like a living thing it fought against him, attempting to wrestle him into submission. Any other day, it may have succeeded. But not today. Not on Easter._

_When he broke through the wall, he stumbled. The noise dying almost instantly to a low whistle, the wind no longer a wild force but a gentle caress. Here, in the eye, all was calm._

_Here, in the eye, he saw him._

_A spirit, a human almost grown but just barely short of it, stood barefoot in the snow, wooden shepherd's crook hanging limply at their side, eyes on the sky as if waiting for something. The sight filled Aster with rage. Because they_ dared _to ruin his holiday. They_ dared _to harm children. Yet here they stood, like had no meaning to them._

_And then, just as he was ready to charge in. To give the spirit hell… he saw other things. The frayed pants, the bloodied fingertips. The defeated sag of the spirit’s shoulders._

_Aster made a noise, and the startled spirit turned to face him._

_Aster saw the tears._

_The spirit stared at him, for the briefest of moments curiosity lighting their eyes, before the lights died, and they turned away again._

_“Who are you?” Aster asked. At first, the spirit didn’t respond. Aster walked closer, and asked again._

_“I asked who you are, it’s impolite not to answer.”_

_The spirit turned to face him again, confused and, slowly, bringing up a hand to indicate himself. Aster rolled his eyes. “Yes, you, who else is here?”_

_Confusion turned to surprise, then wonder and an almost_ blindingly _bright hope. “You… you can see me?”_

_If any anger had been left in Aster’s system, it left with those words. Suddenly he found himself moving, rapidly approaching the stunned spirit. The spirit flinched as Aster brought his hands up to them, and then stared in awe when Aster grabbed their shoulders. “I can see you. You’re right here.”_

_The spirit stared at his hands on their shoulders, like they’d just witnessed a miracle. How many times had this spirit been walked through? How long had they been alone?_

_“Jack Frost.”_

_“What?” Aster looked at the spirit in confusion, already moving to give them their space._

_The spirit looked at the ground, disappointment at the loss of contact obvious. “You- You asked who I am. Jack Frost. That’s my name.”_

_Jack Frost. Nipping at your nose, coloring the leaves, painting frost on window sills. Aster smiled at the spirit. “It’s nice to meet you Jack. I’m the Easter Bunny.”_

_Around them, the storm began to die down. Aster could feel the shift in the flow of magic as Jack cut off the storm from its power supply. Aster reached out with his own magic. With any luck, no one would die today._

_When he looked back to the spirit in front of him- to Jack, the young man bore a confused expression. “Um…” the voice was hesitant, “What are you doing here?”_

_“It’s Easter mate.”_

_Confusion changed to guilt, and Jack looked away from him. “I’m sorry. I- I swear I didn’t mean to ruin your holiday.”_

_Aster patted the spirit on the head. “She’s apples, mate. Don’t worry about it none.”_

_Jack accepted the contact easily, leaning into it almost. Aster smiled at him… then frowned, pulling his hand away. As much as he enjoyed this outcome, it was wrong. Jack looked up at him, confused._

_“This isn’t how this went, you know. I hurt you.”_

_Jack sighed, then shrugged. Suddenly he looked older. More familiar. “This is better though, isn’t it? Happier?”_

_Aster shook his head. Happier, sure, but… “We can’t change the past, much as we want to. Only the present. Only the future. Sure, this is nice. It would be lovely if things went so smoothly the first time, but they didn’t. It’d be wrong to pretend they did.”_

_Jack reached out, taking Aster’s hands into his own. And as they looked into each other’s eyes Jack spoke one final time. “It’s not too late to pretend you didn’t notice. You can stay, you know. You can be happy.”_

_Aster shook his head, then pressed his lips to Jack’s forehead. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if I just pretended that all the times I hurt you never happened. Sorry, love.”_

_Jack smiled at him, apparently satisfied with the answer. Then he faded away,_ leaving Aster to wake up on his own.


End file.
